


Dear Matty

by RandomDalmatian326



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurts So Good, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Canon Compliant, Pining, Therapy, Writing Exercise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-17 16:25:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16099385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RandomDalmatian326/pseuds/RandomDalmatian326
Summary: Foggy is desperately in love with Matt. Pining for a straight (ha!) decade. He gets a psychologist and eventually starts "writing" to Matt. Here are his letters.





	1. Dear Matty

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah it's another WIP. Shut up. I love Matt and Foggy.

*1*

Dear Matt, 

I've been seeing someone. Not in the fun way, but in the psychologist way. She's told me that a way to healthily express my feelings is by writing you a letter. Not that you'll even read it by the way. This letter is buried in a place you'd never touch. Also it's not in braille. Suck it, Matty.

But I want to get serious, mi amigo. My fellow avocado. 

I dont even know how to start this. Not really. I'm mostly stalling. But that's what I do every day, right? In between being a lawyer and my lack of a social life in Hell's Kitchen. Fuck, even in our job I stall. Is there a line of work for professional stallers? 

Anyway. Matt. I know your Catholic. I know you are. And that's probably why I'm all tied up in knots about this. About-

I'm going to be honest with you. I dont have many secrets, anyway. I just have the one. 

Matt. I love you. I've loved you since the moment you accepted me. Every grateful smile you've thrown me, every time you perk up when I walk in a room. Every touch I've had with you is heaven, even when I guide your hand to a stupid subway rail. 

Every woman (and man, though you don't know about those, I guess that's two secrets) I've had will never measure up to you. You're whip smart and helped me get my act together. We promised to be each other's wingman. But when I break up with women, the reason is always you. I spend too much time with you. Funny, huh? Cuz you cant wait to get away from my fat ass. 

When we opened this practice together, I couldn't wait to see what the world offered us. How we could be best friends, and partners. 

Just not partners like I want. It's stupid, really. I should have just told you years ago. Maybe then we could've laughed about it, I would have been rejected and we could've moved on. Maybe then i wouldn't have hoped. 

But god, matty, you are so hot-n-cold, yanno?? One minute I see your smiling face and you're touching me, we're laughing... and another you curl in on yourself and you can't bear to be around me anymore. What's going on in that big brain of yours? I wish i knew. You're my best friend and i dont want to lose you. But every time you're around me, my heart picks up. The world seems brighter, not that you could actually see it. God, if you could see, you'd only know I had eyes for you.

I love you. So much. I want to be with you always. 

I guess I've told you, in a way. Told SOMEONE, other than my psychologist. Told you. 

Matty, I dont want our friendship to end. I'd love to be with you, be your one and only best friend and partner, but 1) you're not interested in men and 2) you're catholic and you probably think bisexuality is fine as long as YOURE not a part of it. I dont know, though. I'm too afraid to ask you what your stance is on that. 

I dont really know how to end this other than see you tomorrow. 

Love, 

Foggy


	2. Dear Matthew Michael Murdock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Foggy finds out about the DD. He's pissed. He's angsty. His writing is as sloppy as ever.

*2*

Dear Matthew Michael Murdock. 

You stupid motherfucker. You asshole. You dick. Quick question, what the fuck? Were you ever going to tell me? The evidence shows apparently the fuck not. We live in a city and a world filled with superheroes and secret identities and powers and you were never going to tell me that you could "see." World on fire. Ha. Get fucked, Matthew. You can see. In a different way but you can see. Makes sense why you'd never be around my gross ass. You cant see colors, you told me. But you bat motherfucker, you can see. 

But all these years, huh? Making a fool out of me. Defending you. And you could see. I. I feel like an idiot. I should've known. I should've.... 

Matt. 

I'm so angry with you. I'm so angry I could cry. I know we had a fight about this Daredevil thing. Because, jesus chRIST Matty. Your best friend is the last to know. I almost cant fucking believe you. Savior complex. God complex. You seem to have them all. You stubborn prick. Secret identity to protect me. We are defense attorneys, Matt. Enough people are after us. 

But the stupid thing is that I love you anyway. Most reasonable people wouldn't. 

But most reasonable people aren't me. I love you, Matt Murdock. And now I'll just live my life worrying even more about you. I didnt even think that was possible.

I love you. And the only thing I'm good at is stalling. So I guess I'll say it.

I would've helped you Matt. You cant carry the world by itself. You're one person. You're one man. 

A man that I love. When do you sleep? When do you eat? I wish i could just move in with you to help you. To be with you.

I wish you would hold me against the wall and kiss me, you dumb motherfucker. But that won't happen either.

Love, 

Foggy


	3. I don't even know how to address you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elektra Nachios. Matt's destroying himself again. You know, the usual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Foggy's sad.

*3*

I'm not even going to address you. It seems as if you dropped into the hole of bad decisions. Elektra? Again? I hated being around her. And not because I was jealous. I do admit to being jealous, but when you were around her, you were fucking awful. 

You weren't you. You were a shark and a partier, and you almost never left her side. Your world revolved around hers and you never let anyone else in. You didnt talk to me anymore. It was like I was erased out of existence. Everyone you loved suddenly didnt exist anymore. 

I know it's stupid of me to think you love me in any way, but all this does is make me want to drink more. Fuck, Matt. 

Really? Giving her another shot is suicidal. She almost destroyed you. 

I don't even know how to address you. If you'd even listen. You dont listen to me much anymore, these days. There are days where I even wonder if I show up on your radar at all. I try to not let it show how devastated I am. Or how pathetic. I try to be clear cross the city when I talk about you. I try to not let my heart tell you that I love you. Maybe you could read minds. I have no idea, to be perfectly honest. 

I don't want you to be able to. Because if you did, you've probably heard what I thought of you. Behind the jokes. How attractive and smart and caring and wonderful you are. And I dont need your head to be bigger. Ha.

I love you Matt. But I'm not sure how much more of this I can take. I love you so much it's killing me. 

I want you, love you, yearn for you. 

Maybe I'll just sleep with some random lady again. Or I'll just make another trip to Greenwich Village and hookup with another guy again. I'm seeing less of women these days. 

Foggy


	4. My love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Foggy's made up his mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The usual angst

*4*

My love, 

I guess I've dropped all pretenses in my mind now. It's been a while since I last wrote to you. Sorry about that. But I'm not sorry for leaving. 

Matty. This is too much for me. I pine away for you all day. All the time. I need you. I want you. I worry about you.

But I'm also a fucking adult. An adult who understands that you would never want me back. An adult that knows he's stupid and foolish for carrying a torch for a decade. Over a blind man. Who can hear his heartbeat. Who's stunningly attractive and everything I want. 

And who would never know I loved him. God, you don't know, do you? I'm just a distraction to you. Always have been, i guess. You shouted that at me after a long night. After i helped stitch you back up despite saying that i didn't want to be around you anymore. But your stupid eyes and your stupid puppy dog face and stupidly attractive pout kept me from starting another fight. I didnt dare hope when I heard your breath stutter as I touched you, feeling for your wounds, removing that suit that cut you out so damn attractively. I didnt dare wish when I got to touch your bare skin, more than I've ever seen of you. I could barely hold myself together. I almost cracked under the pressure. I guess I did, in a way.

"Buy me dinner first" I said, like some stupid idiot. "I dont stitch my hookups up until after the third date" i continued, because my mouth is a fucking fire hydrant bursting with words like when you kicked one open a year ago to beat the summer heat. 

"Didnt know you were that kind of guy" you said, like we were still best friends and you weren't ignoring me and you were absolutely NOT flirting with me, because you wouldn't, you wouldnt fucking dare do that with me now. After all this time. After being your partner. After leaving. You wouldnt dare give me hope.

"You dont know the kind of guy I am" I replied to you, because I'm an absolute fucktard. 

"Charming?" You said. Like we were bantering. Joking. Like I was fucking Spider-Man or something. Playful, even. Someone I'd seen only when you were talking to other people. To other women. 

"Bisexual," I said, because touching your skin and stitching you up wasnt stupid and tempting enough. That was one of the two secrets I had. You live a full double-life , one in the shadows and one in the light. Same for me. But where you beat up guys in back alleys, I kiss them.

Matty, I've spent so many nights without you in Greenwich Village. So many that started in college and continued to this very day that they know me by my fucking name. Whoever hasn't hooked up with me is a newbie. There's a pool at one of the bars to ask who broke my fucking heart. Hookups get the job done. But apparently I'm a heartbreaker. But twinks still come at me, to see if they can mend my heart. Even otters or bears do. No one succeeds, and the pool keeps getting bigger. Sometimes I even hook up with a guy twice, just to forget, or mess with the pool numbers. 

I remember you stilling under my hands, I remember that sharp, stuttered intake of breath. For someone with no powers, and high anxiety, I'm surprised I wasnt shaking. I was so calm, but you were shaking. 

"When?" You whispered. You looked surprised, like you were hit with something you never knew. That you were not expecting. Guess you weren't. I never mentioned anything about men before. 

"Always," I said. I didnt even whisper it. You looked so lost in that moment. 

"I-" you started, but I didnt let you. You can charm your way out of anything. But I'm a coward. A big, fat, coward. Literally. 

"Yeah. I didn't tell you." I said. Like I would if I didn't tell you i was wearing blue today. Like it was about any old thing. My heart was so calm, but my brain was going haywire. I was so scared and anxious that i think my body was on power-saving mode. 

"Were you ever going to tell me?" You said. The same words I used when you told me you were fucking Daredevil. Like it was something of the same magnitude. 

"Shut the fuck up." I said, before I even registered what I said. You looked surprised, too. That I even said it. I was too. "You dont get to do that, Matthew." 

You almost completely pulled away from me then, your face absolutely hurt. But listen, I was so done. You'd hurt me so much. You keep hurting me. I love you so much it's unbelievable. But you make me absolutely, incredibly mad. 

"Is it because I'm catholic?" You said. Before I even opened my mouth again. "Foggy, I would've accepted you-

"Matt. Please." My voice sounded hurt, even to my own ears. I practically saw the cogs clunking away in your brain, I felt you smell my aftershave and try to suss out how I was feeling without asking. But for the first time in a decade, my body and brain were on the same page. All was quiet. I was scarily calm.

"Matty." I said. So tenderly. So so so tenderly. Because I couldn't stay mad. Wouldnt. "I'm almost done. Then you can go." 

It seemed as if you forgot entirely that I was stitching you up. That you were black and blue from bruises from your other job. 

"Go? Dont you think we should- 

"I'm not going to talk to you about this," I said, finishing your stitches, because I'm a fucking masochist. Because I'd been out since college. 

Just because I wasn't feming it up or wearing "fuck me" booty shorts didnt mean I was fucking straight. Just because I was discreet didnt mean I had to hash out fucking identity politics with a best friend who gladly identified with part of a religious system that systemically fucking hated that I breathed. That I tried so hard not to be a stereotype so that people would fucking respect me as a lawyer. That with every antique or perfectly mismatched piece of furniture or tie I wasnt worried that i would give myself away.

"Foggy I-" 

"Save it." I didnt want to hear what you said. Didn't want to hope. Because I'm stubborn and a fucking coward. 

"Foggy I'm sorry, I never knew, I didnt mean-" 

"Matty. Just stop. I dont need anything from you." I put the first aid kit away. I was tired. I hadn't seen you in a week. Though my heart called out to me to tell you I love you, I want you, please come back to me, my head was done. I needed to be over you. But you never let go. 

But for some reason, same as always, you didnt go. 

"Are you out?" You asked. Genuinely wondering. Trying to figure me out. Assessing me, like I once assessed you when you told me about daredevil. How many people know? I had asked. It was essentially the same question. 

I barked out a laugh. A blind man who prided himself on being sharp. Seeing through people. A man that couldn't figure out his best friend was fucking queer. He literally couldn't see what was in front of his nose. 

"Matty, all of Greenwich Village knows who I am." 

"I... I don't know what that means." You said, obliviously. You had no clue, did you? Of course not. You're a fucking straight catholic man. A religious man. Fuck me, right? 

"Let me spell it out for you, Murdock. I've slept with almost the entire gay community. They know me by name at bars. They warn the newbies about me. Not that I even fucking touch anyone under our age." 

You blush, and you're embarrassed. You don't know where to go from this.

Truth be told? Neither did I. 

"Is that why you left?" You ask. And oh, you're so close, but I couldn't say it. My throat was cotton. This was the moment I've been anticipating for a decade. I was going to get my heart absolutely broken. I wasnt ready. Are you ever ready for it? The grief settling in your bones? The fact that you ruined the only semblance of a relationship that mattered to you?

"Is it because you think I'm a bigot? Foggy I would never-" you swallowed. "I would never judge you for that. I-I thought you knew that. I'd always have your back. Always." 

I always thought I'd be laughing when you were reduced to an anxious mess. That id be laughing that I'd finally become the suave one, and the tables would be turned, after years of being riddled with anxiety. 

But instead, I felt like crying.

I swallowed, and stuttered through a breath. You were such a fucking idiot, I dont know why I ever thought you were brilliant. I mean you are, but you're so, so blind. Literally. I almost cried. I almost told you everything. 

I had only one secret left. The biggest one. 

"No, Matty." And you reeled back at my voice. Almost as if you could see the tears finally, finally filtering down my face. 

And I had to tell the truth. At least part of it. Hold on to my pride, at least a little. Not show you how pathetic I really am. 

"I cant watch you destroy yourself, Matty. I can't watch you get beaten to smithereens or never sleep. I just can't. I l-" it had almost spilt out of me, and I just couldn't finish. I just cried. Loud fucking sobs. My foundations were quaking after years of me pretending I wasnt absolutely suffering, after these last two years of breaking just a little bit more every day. 

Even all the band-aids in the world couldn't fix me. 

I just let myself cry. I hadn't cried with you or for you in a while. It was so relieving, finally letting some of the sadness go. 

I wish you would've held me. But you stayed so far away from me. You didnt even hesitate to put distance between the two of us. Like always. 

I wanted you to touch me, Matty. I wanted you to comfort me, or at the very least, tell me comforting lies. I just. Wanted something from you. Anything. But I wasnt going to reach for you. I wanted you to reach for me. 

But instead you let me cry for what felt like forever. Ugly cry. Not like you could fully see my face anyway. 

But it's like you didnt even know what to say. A grown man watching another cry. I was always so quick to touch you. To comfort you, to love you. To simply high five or let you know where things were. I was always the one touching you, even when you didn't ask. 

Because I think, on some level, you knew the touch was coming. You knew you never had to ask. That it would be there. 

But I am done being your constant, Matthew. I've spent so many years investing in a dream that I never realized it was doomed to fail. 

"I cant, I can't promise you anything-" you said, and didnt that encompass my entire life? 

"Just. Just leave me alone." I said. 

"Foggy." 

"Matty, we're done." I dont even know why I said that, but I sure meant it at the time. It was like a break up. Stupid, right? Because I dont think I'd ever be done loving you. 

But the worst thing was that you were my whole fucking world. My best friend. My partner at the firm. 

Well, we weren't partners at the firm anymore. I dont even know if we're friends anymore. 

Matty, I'm so sorry for what I said. 

"You were a huge distraction anyway" you said. You were hurt. You wanted to hurt me back. I think that's the worst thing either of us had said to each other, and we've fought throughout the years. Never anything as major as the last two years, but I thought. 

I thought that maybe, after all these years, there was a part of you that loved me. That our bond would never be broken. That I could never break it.

Matty, you succeeded. I'd never thought I'd want to cry again after the first time. 

Inconvenient, though, because I had no tears left to cry. My heart fell to the floor. You shattered it like you shatter guys' jaws. 

I sniffed some more. I dry sobbed. I know you heard it because you looked, in that moment, as broken as I felt. 

You left. You weren't smooth. You tumbled around the apartment, clumsily backing away until you threw me one last look and careened out my window. 

I'm sorry , is what I wanted you to text me. Foggy, I'm lost without you. Please come back. I cant promise anything but I'll be careful. Please be mine. Please. I love you. 

I haven't heard from you in weeks. I guess that's all the answer I need. 

I've got to move on. I've got to. But I also called in PTO at work. 

I'm going to take a shower and fucking burn these letters. 

Goodbye, 

Foggy


	5. To Matt Murdock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt finally gets the letters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ends well, I swear.

To Matt Murdock:

*5*

Attached are some letters for you. Please read them in attached order. This is number 5. Please dont read any more before the other 4. Spoilers ahead, and all that.

The big C-word. Cancer. 

I'm dying, Matty. And I couldn't live with myself (ha ha) if you didn't have these.

I didnt burn them. I couldn't. They were yours. All your shit, no matter how stupid, is still in my apartment, tucked safely away. Those things will slowly be making their way back to you. It'll take a while, because I'm tired as hell.

But also because I'm an idiot. Because I love you still. A big part of me still loves you, and I still think about you. And your things. Like your mug that you left here. Like that gag gift you got for me that first Christmas at Columbia. A sweater. Or somethin red that simply reminds me of you.

Like these letters. The psychologist says that maybe it's time. She doesn't know about the Daredevil thing, by the way. I never told a soul. I even hand typed these letters up on that old braille keyboard you left at my place after you got that shiny new one. You said youd come pick it up and donate it, but you never did. Guess you forgot. That will also be making it's way back to you soon.

 

Anyway, my psychologist knows that I love you. You come up a lot. She knows about the letters. And what I've written in them. 

Maybe it's time you knew too. 

Matthew Michael Murdock, I love you. I've loved you for ten years. That's the one secret, the one thing you didnt know about me. 

I dont know how long I have. I wish I could be with you. I wish you could be with me. You dont want anything to do with me, do you? You never answered my calls or my texts again. Even though I did text you. Soberly. And drunkenly. Where are you was something I often shouted into the void of your voicemail. Sometimes angry. Sometimes sad. I dont even know if you heard them. 

But I guess my parting words had been strong enough to keep even the Daredevil of Hell's Kitchen away. "We're done." Like we could ever be done. 

I wish I could see you before I die, Matty. I've lost so much weight I dont even know if you'd recognize me. The psychologist says that happy thoughts and positive attitude help treatment. That I'm severely depressed, and that my body is deteriorating similarly.

I dont even care if you love me or my no-longer-fat-ass or not. I just. I just want to see you. 

I've transcribed all of the letters into braille. Funnily enough, right? I was so haughty when I started writing these. Youd never be able to read them, i said. 

Karma sure is a bitch. 

Foggy.


End file.
